After the War
by LadyLeafling
Summary: Katniss knew her sister would want her to lead the life they fought for without sadness. Be a mother to her children, unlike their mother was to them. And so, she would. For Primrose, and for all the friends and allies they lost during the war. Contains Spoilers to the Hunger Games trilogy.


**A\N: As some of you already know, I'm a fan of the band Stars. Practically all their songs, I know by heart-which is why I was ashamed to discover that I hadn't known of my new favorite song by them, "In Our Bedroom after the War" off of their 2007 album of the same name. It's so beautiful, I couldn't breathe the first hour I spent listening to it. Even now, a week and a half later, I can barely hold back tears. **

**So, given the ...well, the just indescribable feelings I get from listening to it, I sat down to write this story. I had just a tablet and too many ideas in my head; like how I wanted to deal with Katniss' grief and also show her love for Peeta in a subtle way. My sincerest apologies if everything's jumbled up. Perhaps, when I get my thoughts together, I'll add onto this and make it into something more. Until then, I give you my little creation as is to read. **

**Contains spoilers to the entire Hunger Games Trilogy—(which I read a while ago, so I'm sketchy on the details)—just thought I'd warn you guys ahead of time. Thanks in advance! **

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_"All the living are dead, and the dead are all living  
The war is over and we are beginning" - Stars_

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The explosion was gigantic, rocking the very earth they stood upon and flinging innocent bystanders into walls and through windows. Nearby vehicles caught alight from the blast, as a chain-reaction caused them to explode as well. Flames smelling like fuel and charred skin spread out across buildings and the road, like a lethal vine of heat and destruction. The panic that ensued disrupted order like nothing ever before. People ran for their lives, some shoving and shouting, knocking others down onto the blood-soaked street, in the midst of their fright, parents lost grip of their children's grip and watched helplessly as they were trampled under the boots of absconding civilians.

Another car blew up—BOOM! and caused even more pandemonium. Bodies were caught in the immense explosion and were sent sailing into the air; grown men were thrown about like ragdolls, before being cast to the hard street and slain. Left and right, death began to seize all nearby in its cold, vice-like grip.

Katniss, caught in the middle of the chaos, struggled against strong arms wound around her midriff and shoulders, to run across the wreckage—through the soaring flames that blotted out the sun in the sky and choked the atmosphere, passed the scrambling peacekeepers and all in-between—to get Prim.

Her sister, she had been—had been in one of those damned vehicles that currently sat in a crumpled heap of twisted metal and fire, and though the rational part of Katniss knew that no one could have survived that, she couldn't... couldn't even imagine losing her; the most significant person in her life—her little sister: gone, in a blink of an eye. The very thought of it made her collapse to her knees, sobbing and cursing all and everything.

If there was a god, he was a cruel, cruel bastard—for all Katniss had sacrificed; for everything she had done, her sister had still been taken from her. Ripped cruelly from this world by a fucking bomb—and though, Primrose's death had been quick, that the blast had destroyed the vehicle in fractions of seconds saving the blonde from any real pain, the fact that Katniss hadn't even got to say goodbye made her breakdown.

"Prim!" She sobbed; anguish made her voice gravelly and broken. The arms that held her back loosened their grip, before falling away completely. Balling her hands into fists, Katniss jumped to her feet and took off. Her boots thudding against the body-strewn street, as the brunette ran to the burning car like a soldier crossing a vast battlefield to rescue a wounded comrade.

She made it halfway, before she was grabbed again. Pulled off her feet, Katniss screamed in emotional agony and frustration, as she reached out for the crumpled wreckage that contained her sister's body and only found it getting further and further away from her grasp, as her world was turned upside down and put onto the ground. Her back collided harshly with the street, rendering her breathless for the moment.

Sobbing brokenly, trying to catch her breath, but failing as she cried harder and harder, Katniss gave up. Closing her eyes, she clutched her head tightly in despair and tried to block out the sounds of crying, misplaced children and the moaning of the wounded; the shouted commands of the peacekeepers and enraged citizens—people calling for their gods to help them, siblings calling out the names of those who had probably just been killed.

She curled into the fetal-position, sobbing and wishing she were dead instead of her sister. Prim never hurt anyone; never killed anyone—what did she do to deserve this?

Through her tears, Katniss felt heat warming her skin—too hot, too much. She exhaled shakily in growing discomfort, before sucking in a broken breath and trying to open her eyes in the midst of her sorrow. Instead of the Capital—instead of an endless sea of bodies and damage—instead of the red sky and thick smoke—she found herself looked through cloudy eyes and bright beams of sunlight at floral-printed drapery. For a moment, she was confused, but when she shifted around on the bed and felt the scars—taut and hardened by time passed—on her skin pull with her sluggish movements, it all came back to her. She remembered it all at once—the war was over, Coin long dead, the Hunger Games long since abolished... everything was done and over with. Life had moved on, a better world having been built for the future generation; Prim, though gone, had not died in vain.

Katniss' heart was still heavy with grief, but she sat up in bed regardless of the weight in her chest. Scrubbing her flushed face, she wiped away the remnants of her tears. Looking through the slit in the drapes and out at the early-morning sky, the brunette tried to breathe deeply as wind swept through and brought in the smell of nature and peace. At first, early breath was like a punch in the gut, her heart aching too much to do more than cry, but eventually Katniss let the breeze steal away her sorrow; felt herself leave her body almost, as she drifted into a state of solace.

Carding her fingers through her messy hair, moving it out of her face and letting it fall down her hunched shoulders, Katniss gripped the cover that pooled around her waist and began to pull them off, when she noticed that the duvet wouldn't budge—that it had been caught under something. That something was her children, at the foot of the bed they laid, sleeping as if there wasn't a care in the world. There really wasn't. Not to say that their lives would be without hardship and heartache, just compared to the time she lived through and grew up in—where poverty and pain was in more abundance than sunshine and rain, and every day was a struggle between life or death; hard for the most optimistic, and especially for a fatherless girl raising her kid-sister, all on her own, in the desolate and downtrodden District Twelve—life was something to enjoy.

Katniss smiled, something soft and not without an edge of sadness, as she observed the gentle rise and fall of their chests, as they breathed deeply and dreamt of the nonsensical things that children should. Things she knew nothing about—like what was funny on the TV, or what color crayon they liked the most—but loved to hear them speak of, nonetheless.

Holding her breath, as she focused completely on being quiet, Katniss maneuvered around on the mattress, until her legs were free of the cover and hanging off the side of the bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet, but she paid it no mind, as she stood and grabbed for her dressing gown hanging on the back of the chair.

As she pulled the robe onto her shoulders, Katniss felt a hand brush against her leg. Fingers trailed up her thigh and hip, until they found and clutched her hand affectionately. She fought the urge to recoil, knowing the calloused hand that held onto her belonged to Peeta. Looking over her shoulder, her steely-gray eyes met his ocean-blue ones, and suddenly Katniss felt warmth spread throughout her chest, as she observed her sleepy husband smiling at her. There was a dried trail of drool at the corner of his mouth, and his hair was disheveled on one side and matted down on the other from stirring too often during the night.

"Good morning." Peeta greeted quietly, squeezing Katniss' hand fondly. His hand was as warm as his expression. She smiled a little brighter, his gentle affection a salve to her wounded heart. Lethargy came upon her suddenly, as she squeezed his hand back and watched as he leaned up and rubbed his clean-shaven cheek against her wrist.

"Good morning." She replied, her voice even quieter than his had been, as she turned and knelt down to plant a soft kiss on Peeta's knuckles, and then his lips. The blonde hummed happily, before letting his head fall back onto his pillow. "Come back to bed..." he urged, purring like a contented cat. Katniss raised her brow at him, but obeyed nonetheless, as she felt too tired to do anything anymore.

Climbing onto the bed and cuddling up next to Peeta, Katniss let him remove her robe and toss it back onto the chair. With her head on her husband chest and his hands twining in her thick hair, Katniss stared down the length of the bed; observing the lone lump in the covers where the blonde's remaining leg was. Feeling Peeta's fingers massaging her scalp, she closed her eyes and wondered... wondered what it would've been like, if she had lost her leg and got to keep Prim in exchange for it.

Were physical scars better than their emotional counterpart?

Did Peeta hurt as much as she did, or more—but, didn't show it, as not to worry her or the children?

There was no more time for speculation, as she floated back to sleep. This time, Katniss dreamt of Primrose running through a vast golden field with soaring trees and clear blue skies, her laugh the same but different, her smile perfect but not hers, the memory of her wasn't the same as the real thing, but it would suffice in Katniss' dream world; where birds were the color of the rainbow and her children were the same size as their aunt.

The tears that escaped her eyes, this time, were filled with bittersweet emotions. As she gripped onto the wrinkled cotton of Peeta's shirt and felt his heart beating steadily under her palm, even in deep-sleep, she smiled. She would love Primrose always and forever, but—as cliché as it sounded—Katniss knew her sister would want her to lead the life they fought for without sadness. Be a mother to her children, unlike their mother was to them. And so, she would. For Primrose, and for all the friends and allies they lost during the war.


End file.
